I Am Forever (What Kills Me) Read online

  I smelled grass and flowers.

  I saw Brogan’s reflection in a frosted glass pane. She chewed on her bottom lip. Beyond the glass I recognized the botanical garden. Her fingers reached for the control panel by the door. They flipped back the safety guard and pressed a red button several times until the display read, “Full UV.”

  What are you doing? A familiar horn sounded in her memory. I heard Dr. Femi’s cry. Oh no. Brogan, you didn’t.

  I looked away to clear the vision.

  Brogan had turned the UV lights on when Dr. Femi and I were sitting in the garden. She knew I’d survive it because I’d told her about my immunity to sunlight. But she had tried to kill Dr. Femi.

  “Why, Brogan?” I stopped in my tracks and pulled her back by the hand.

  “Why what, my lady?”

  “I know you tried to burn Doctor Femi in the garden.”

  Her eyes stretched wide. She shook her head.

  “It’s okay, Brogan. I know.”

  “How—how did you know?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Why did you do it?”

  “I was only trying to protect you, my lady. You mentioned your sister in that conversation, and I didn’t want Doctor Femi to suspect anything.”

  You were willing to take such drastic measures to protect me? Her loyalty both touched and chilled me.

  “Oh, Brogan,” I began.

  “Family is important,” she said.

  “I know. But—”

  Suddenly I saw someone behind her. I blinked. And her head was gone.

  “NO!”

  Brogan’s body fell, her hands open as if to catch her own head. I slid to my knees and gathered her in my arms.

  No, please, no. No no no no no. NO!

  San and Lucas doubled back to fight the oncoming rebels. I held her head and sobbed into her hair. Her cold blood soaked my dress. I wanted to put her back together. Her eyes were open. I started to scream and I couldn’t stop.

  Then I became not me.

  I stood. And I attacked. My hands did things I had no control over. I only wanted to tear this world apart.

  All was a blur of blood and destruction. I rent arms from torsos. I tore someone’s spinal cord from his back as if I was deboning a fish. I kicked a rebel’s legs out from under him and as he fell, I stomped on him. His chest burst like a giant tomato between my foot and the floor.

  I screamed until I was choking and blind with tears. I screamed until there was nothing left to destroy.

  My eyes couldn’t focus. It was quiet except for the patter of blood falling onto the floor from my hands. My fingertips tingled. Dark, pulpy mounds like wet newspaper lay at my feet. The ground was littered with pieces of bodies, like worms on a sidewalk after the rain.

  San and Lucas faced me, wearing the same horrified masks. They looked at each other and then back at me.

  “Zee,” Lucas said. He sounded far away.

  “She’s in shock,” San said.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Lucas said, taking me by the shoulders. I took one last look at Brogan’s body. It wasn’t right. There had been no transition. One second she was there and then she wasn’t. It wasn’t right.

  I’m so sorry, Brogan.

  We walked into the airplane hangar; rectangular lights on the ceiling lit up the space. A shiny white jet awaited us. It had a long, pointed snout like a missile, sleek wings that bent up at the tips, and blacked-out windows.

  The pilot stood at the bottom of the stairs to the plane. He was wearing a suit, cap, and dark aviator glasses. Despite my numbness I realized that he was human: I could hear the thump of his heartbeat. San stuck his blade under the pilot’s chin.

  “Do you know who she is?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the pilot said. The point of San’s sword pierced the soft skin on his neck and blood trickled into his collar.

  “Good,” San said. “You’re going to take the Divine wherever she needs to go right now without alerting the Empress, or you’re not going to live to see another day.”

  The pilot started to shake, causing more blood to spill.

  “Say ‘yes,’ or I’m slitting your throat.”

  “Yes, yes. Just—please, don’t kill me,” the pilot spluttered.

  “Where are we going, my lady?” San asked.

  Home. “Winnipeg,” I whispered.

  The interior of the plane looked like a space-aged living room. The carpet was purple and the leather furniture was light gray with silver trim. A vampire flight attendant in a red suit greeted us with scared eyes and a fake grin. She held a tray with two goblets.

  “Get out,” Lucas said. She set the drinks down on a table and scurried past us.

  Lucas threw his bag on a long couch on one side of the plane while San disappeared into the cockpit, presumably to threaten the pilot again.

  Beyond a divider I found a bed. I sat on the comforter, leaving bloody prints on the white sheets, like red Rorschach blotches. The plane’s engine rumbled to life. Lucas knelt before me.

  “Zee?”

  I stared at him blankly. He held a damp towel and started wiping my face with it, down the bridge of my nose, under my eyes. But new tears spilled down my cheeks a second later. He folded the towel and cleaned my arms and hands. He was rubbing a shell; I was lost inside.

  My friend. I pictured Brogan floating in the lake with me, her hair matted to her pale forehead and her whispering mouth just above the water. I pictured her brushing my hair with her light, careful touch.

  “Brogan’s been helping me look out for my mom and dad for months,” I said. “She had her brother watching them. And now she’s never going to be able to see him again.”

  I crawled into the middle of the bed and curled into a ball.

  “Did I bring this upon her?” I whispered. Noel, Jerome, Kinman, Robert. They had all died because of me.

  Lucas touched my shoulder.

  “Hey. No. You didn’t do this. A rebel murdered the maid.”

  “But they wanted me.” I buried my face into the pillow. “If something has happened to my family because of me...”

  “Shh. Don’t.”

  He slid one hand under my neck and the other around my waist. He rested his chest against my back and I turned my head so his mouth was against my ear.

  “We’ll find them, Zee. Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s going to be fine.”

  The plane lifted into the air. Before it had leveled off, I heard San rooting around the drawers and in the fridge for more blood. He settled on the couch, and a movie started on the flat screen behind the divider. Lucas and I lay in silence for a while.

  I squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Zee?” He nuzzled my hair.

  “Yeah?”

  “I never stopped caring about you.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “I’ve been distant these past few months,” he said. “And I want to explain why,”

  “It’s okay. I understand. Being at the Monarchy brought up painful memories for you. And then you saw the Monarchy dressing me like vampire Barbie doll and you thought I was a tool.”

  “No. Well, yes. But I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at them. And angry at myself.”

  “Why would you be angry at yourself?”

  “I abandoned you and the senator attacked you. And what stung the most was when I rushed to see you, I found you with the cleric and the war page. You were all smiling and laughing. I hadn’t been there for you—and it didn’t matter.”

  “It’s my fault. I should’ve told you how I felt. I just didn’t know that you had any feelings for me.” I ran my fingers along his arm. “You know that whole broody vampire thing is only sexy for so long, right? Then it’s kind of alienating.”

  “I was trying to alienate you. I thought it would make it easier to leave.”

  “Did it?”

  “No. But I told myself that I had no purpose in your life. That as the Divine you had outgrown me.”


  “I’ll always need you. I thought of you every minute of the day, and it killed me to see you so unhappy around the palace.”

  “I won’t lie to you, Zee. I have always hated it there. I can’t stand the arrogance and the inequality, the control, the lack of privacy. It was suffocating. And infuriating. But I stayed until I thought you would be all right.”

  “It was all an illusion. I was never all right. In the palace my own guards were armed with stun guns. Outside, the rebels were waiting with theirs. The safest place has always been with you.”

  “How did you know...how I felt?”

  Oh crap. How can I explain this without sounding like an alien illegally probing your memories?

  I rolled over so that we were face to face.

  “I have to tell you something. I don’t want you to get freaked out.”

  “This doesn’t sound good.”

  “You know those flashbacks that I’ve been having? Those crazy powerful memories that I’ve been telling Doctor Femi about?”

  “Yes?”

  “Yeah, they’re not really my memories.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Um, they’re other people’s memories.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When I touch others, I can see their secrets.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been getting visions, and at first I thought they were mine. But then I saw things that I couldn’t possibly know.”

  Lucas sat up and San came around the divider. He had obviously heard our entire conversation.

  “Every time you touch someone?” Lucas asked.

  I looked at San and Lucas and swallowed. “No. Not every time. Just when I want to know something. Apparently I’m a naturally curious girl and the Monarchy has a lot of secrets.”

  “What have you seen?” Lucas asked.

  “Whose mind have you read?” San said at the same time.

  “I don’t read minds. Listen, I know it sounds crazy. But—”

  “Did you see anyone’s dirty secrets?” San blurted.

  “What? No,” I said.

  “Because, my lady, I can explain. Fantasies are very healthy—”

  I put my hand up. “Oh my God, San. You need to stop right now.”

  “Yeah, shut up, War Page,” Lucas said. “What are these visions like?”

  “They last maybe a second or two. I saw Lady Bo when I touched Robert. I saw a picture of my sister when I touched one of the rebels. And when we kissed, I saw your memories of me.”

  San stepped back. “In your living quarters,” he said, “you said something about my mother.”

  “I did.”

  His face fell.

  “I’m sorry, San. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

  “I understand, my lady.” He retreated to the other part of the cabin.

  I crawled over Lucas and followed him. “Wait.”

  He was sitting facing the television and I took the seat opposite him. “San, are you upset?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “If it makes you feel better, ask me anything. Nothing is off limits. I’ll spill all of my secrets, even the embarrassing stories.”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “No, seriously. Let’s see...I was the last of my friends to find out where babies come from. I told everyone that my mother grew me in her backyard garden, which is what she told me. Then for years everyone at school called me Zucchini Zee.”

  He smiled.

  “So I’m a bit naive,” I said with shrug.

  “My lady endured the ridicule well.”

  “I was bullied a little...a lot.”

  “This explains why the lady is a champion of the underdog.”

  “I had my own champions. My best friend, Ryka, always looked out for me. And now I have you.” I reached across the small table in between us and patted his arm. His eyes flitted down to my hand. “I’m not probing you, San.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s instinctual from being under the Monarchy’s rules,” he said. “But about the secrets—I’m not upset at the lady. I’m ashamed.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m not sure what you saw, but my mother was a slave.”

  “Okay.”

  “My father was a laborer during the colonization of the Americas when he met my mother. She was taken and resold when I was very young. But my father never treated me any differently from the rest of his children. Everyone in our settlement knew, though, and they treated me as if I were an animal.”

  San. You’ve spent lifetimes searching for worth because you fear that you were born without it. But you’re worthy. You were worthy the day you were born.

  I moved around the table and knelt beside his chair.

  “My lady?”

  “San. You never have to feel ashamed of that—not with me. I’m friends with you because you’re kind, funny, and sincere. And because we both love martial arts movies.”

  “Except the ones—” he started.

  “—with shaky camera work so you have no clue who’s punching who,” I finished.

  “Thank you, my lady, for calling me a friend. You may be my only friend.”

  “And Lucas,” I added.

  “I’m not his friend,” Lucas said from behind the divider.

  “Give him some time,” I said with a wink. “Hey, Lucas and I didn’t like each other either in the beginning, and now we’re making out.”

  “I have no interest in making out with the swordsmith,” San replied.

  I smiled. “How long is the flight?”

  “About eight hours.”

  “Well, if you guys can get along in this enclosed space for that long, it’s a good start.”

  Over my shoulder something exploded on the flat screen, startling me. The screams reminded me of the chaos we had left behind and what could be waiting for us when we landed.

  My city had changed. No. That wasn’t it. I had changed and the city looked different.

  It had snowed early this year in Winnipeg and the city was covered in white powder.

  After we landed in darkness, the pilot told us that he’d arranged for us to enter the country without issue. By “arranged” I figured he meant “bribed.”

  “Good,” San said, “because if people try to stop us, their deaths will be on you.”

  Lucas disappeared from the hangar to find us a car.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere,” San said.

  “How long?” I asked.

  “Perhaps a few hundred years.”

  As soon as the doors parted, the cold hit us, penetrating our bodies and glazing our skin, our teeth, our eyeballs. I felt the frigid temperature. But what I didn’t feel was the sting. It was cold—the icy pavement under my bare feet, the harsh wind across the empty parking lot—but none of it was painful.

  Interesting. Vampires are born for this weather.

  Lucas pulled up in a stolen car with a thick layer of frosting over it except for where the windshield wipers had cleared the glass. San climbed into the back and I got in beside Lucas. I directed him out of the airport and toward my home. There were almost no cars on the road this early in the morning. It was 2:30 a.m. We had maybe four or five hours until sunrise.

  The snow fell in dizzying patterns. In the glare of the street lamps the flakes looked as if they were moths flying in the light. It was so quiet here. It was as if the snow was putting the city further to sleep, blanketing the buildings, the houses. The signs on the strip malls were lit up but their lots were frosted and empty.

  “Turn here,” I said. Lucas drove into my neighborhood. “This is it, go left.”

  My house was the only one on the street with its lights on. As Lucas pulled into the driveway, I threw open my door.

  “Zee!” I heard Lucas call after me.

  I ran up the front steps. Without meaning to I tore the screen door off its hinges. I tossed it into the bushes and pushed the main door open with a cr
ack.

  “Mom!” I yelled, stepping into foyer. “Dad?”

  I rushed through the living room and into the kitchen. The house smelled like clean laundry.

  “Tiff!”

  I walked through the dining room and circling back to the foyer. Brushing past Lucas I leaped up the stairs, accidentally crushing the handrail with my hand. I swung open my parents’ bedroom door. I went into the bathroom and then into my sister’s bedroom. Her bed was unmade, the indent of her head still in her pillow. Her wastebasket was filled with tissues and a few were crumpled on her bed.

  Shaking, I sat on her mattress. My chest ached. Bloody tears soaked my face. I called her name again.

  Beside a small television on her dresser she had put a framed photo of us as kids. We were in matching pink puffy winter jackets, hugging, our cheeks pressed together. I didn’t remember the photo being taken, but I loved how we looked, mouths open mid-laugh and almost off balance. The frame’s glass had her fingerprints all over it.

  I touched her blanket. I strummed her necklaces, which she’d hung on a pussy willow branch. I stared at the poster on her wall, which read: “Keep calm and carry on.”

  Feeling faint, I leaned on her windowsill, my tears raining onto the cream carpet. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.

  Where are you?

  Heavy snow filled the backyard. The lawn was white, pristine, except for a few paw prints from a rabbit passing through. My mother’s mountain ash tree had sprouted blood-red berries. Four inches of snow sat on the fence, like layers of icing on a cake. Except it was uneven in one place.

  What?

  Shoe prints. On top of the fence.

  I ran from my sister’s room, jumped over the banister and landed on the first floor.

  “My lady, what’s—” San began.

  I rushed through the kitchen and opened the back door. My feet disappeared in the snow. The cold startled me. Light flakes settled on my face. White clumps were caught in the cedars. Amid the mounds, familiar faces peeked out—the ears from a deer statue, the twisted grin of a garden gnome. I could hear the fast breath of a bunny; following the noise I found him under a bush, his feet tucked under him, compact and unmoving like a loaf of bread.

  The wind chime hanging from a plum tree was still. A dollop of snow sat on top of it. Scanning the yard I turned to the house and saw the shoe prints on the roof, leading up and over to the other side. The prints were smallish, with tread marks in the heel and toes, like those made by soccer runners.